Dear Crucial Skills,

I moved to a new branch a year ago and am managing a new team of people. The long-standing norm has been to allow staff to spend time on activities that are not work-related. I am very frustrated with what I believe is dishonest behavior, as people use paid time to do personal chores. I am also concerned that my frustration will come across to the staff in the wrong way.

I have looked to many sources to deal with this effectively. When I bring up the issue, things change for a short time, and then behavior reverts back to old habits. How can I get across to the staff once-and-for-all that this is not acceptable?

New Kid in Town

Dear New Kid,
I applaud your integrity. We operate in a far less-supervised workplace than people did fifty years ago. So much of our work is electronically mediated and done independently, that there is a much greater temptation to slack off now and again. And given all the tools that make it easy to e-mail, shop online, connect with friends on Facebook, or share videos on YouTube—it takes an enormous amount of self-discipline to stay focused on the job you’re paid to do.

You face a tricky situation because your challenge is not how to change bad behavior; it’s how to change bad norms. It’s one thing to confront the inappropriate meanderings of one individual. It requires a wholly different strategy when you’re attempting to reset the norms of a group of people.

Here are some thoughts about how to approach your problem. You’ve got at least three crucial conversations to hold:

1. Establish air cover. The big problem with bad norms is you don’t know how high and wide the acceptance runs. If, for example, your peer managers in this new location give tacit approval to personal indulgences during work hours, it’s much harder to establish new norms. It’ll be even harder if those above you have enabled this behavior. If this is the case, then the first crucial conversation you need to have is with other managers and your bosses.

When discussing the problem with peer managers and bosses, you’ve got to give yourself air cover in the form of facts and data so you won’t be standing alone when the going gets tough. Gather and share data about the frequency of the problems and do some rough calculations of the effect on costs or other important business results. In doing so, be sure not to come across as indignant or self-righteous. If you do, you’re more likely to be seen as a zealot than as a reasonable leader.

Your goal in these crucial conversations is to establish mutual purpose. Don’t push them faster than they’re willing to go. Let the data do the talking and let them come to conclusions with you about what to do. Of course, if the problems are open-and-shut violations of policy, you’ll need to notify HR or other appropriate leaders—but if we’re talking about sloppy management and gray area issues, these conversations are your most effective influence tool.

2. Make it public. Next, you need to start a public dialogue about these concerns. Bad norms are usually established in silence—no one discusses misbehavior but everyone is guilty. The first thing you need to do is openly and publicly acknowledge the frequency of the concerns. Show a bit of respect by acknowledging your own natural tendency to fall into bad behavior when others are doing so. Be careful that you don’t come across as thinking you are better than your colleagues. Instead, talk about your growing awareness of the ethics involved and share your perceptions about the consequences of this behavior (on costs, customers, peers, etc.).

3. Clarify three kinds of consequences. Your goal in the crucial conversation with your staff is to help them clearly understand the importance of changing their behavior. Less effective influencers attempt to motivate people to change solely with threats. Remember, you aren’t trying to alienate them; you’re trying to help them change. You’ve got to work with these people to get things done and don’t want to start your relationship with them by provoking resentment. As we’ve suggested in Influencer: The Power to Change Anything, you’ll do far better if you have three sources of motivation rather than just one. Your goal is to help people change through personal, social, and structural motivation.

Personal: Raise the issue candidly and respectfully as a moral issue and invite people to challenge your view of the concern if they see it differently. If people don’t immediately feel defensive, they are likely to realize they have fallen into moral sloppiness. If this happens, you’ll have their consciences as your ally in influencing change. And that’s an ally that is with them more often than you are.

Social: Encourage people to respectfully confront violations of the new norm. They are unlikely to join you to begin with—but letting them know there will be social consequences for misbehavior can be a powerful deterrent.

Structural: Let people know what sanctions will be applied for first time or repeated offenses. This public discussion—done in a respectful way—can cause people to be far more conscious of their choices than they have been in the past. If you do this well, you’ll take a big step toward disrupting the past norm. The last step is to establish the new norm.

4. Follow up scrupulously and compassionately. New norms are established when people experience immediate and consistent social consequences for their behavior. So be sure they do. If you see violations, confront them. But also confront those who were aware of them but said nothing. You need to not only communicate your desire for new behavior—but also your expectation that others will join you in encouraging the agreed-upon values. And when repeated offenses occur, be sure to invoke the sanctions you committed to. But when you do, do so in a way that shows you get no satisfaction from inflicting punishment. If you seem vindictive or remorseless about it, you will once again alienate those you’re trying to influence.

The bottom line is if your goal is simply to crack down on bad behavior, you can go in with guns blazing. But if your goal is to influence sustainable and healthy behavior, you’ll have to use a broader range of influence strategies—beginning with a few crucial conversations.

Best wishes in your worthy attempt to change the behavior of your team.

Joseph

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With Halloween just around the corner, I thought I’d draw this month’s material from my childhood trick-or-treating experiences. I’ll start with a rather bold allegation. I just may have been the best candy grabber in the history of Halloween. “Pshaw!” you say. Well, here’s the evidence.

As I walked home with my best friend one crisp October afternoon in 1956, he asked me a rather naive question: “Do you want to go trick-or-treating with me?” What a hayseed! Didn’t he know anything about the finer art of extracting candy from strangers? First of all, going door to door with friends is a huge mistake. When you travel with friends, you slow down as you talk.

Trick-or-treat rule number one: During the precious few hours of the one night of the year when candy is free for the asking, don’t slow down for anything. Every moment lost could cost you a candy bar—which, by the way, just happens to be your only reason for going out in the first place. (It’s all about the chocolate.) One Halloween I sprinted by a house that was on fire and didn’t break stride. You think I’m going to go trick-or-treating with a friend?

Here’s another time-related hint. Today’s kids tote plastic pumpkins and other such store-bought trinkets for holding their goodies. I carried, and I’m not making this up, a ratty looking burlap bag that originally contained a hundred pounds of potatoes. I chose this cast-off carrier because I didn’t have time to be swapping out bags in the middle of the evening. This choice, quite naturally, caused problems. By the end of the evening, a potato sack jammed with candy weighed just about as much as I did. Equally bad, a lot of people were offended by it. “Look at that thing! It’s positively disgusting!” they’d say as I held out a bag large enough to schlep a yak.

Rule number two: Run from door to door. When you only have a five-hour window to get free candy, you run. You don’t walk, you don’t jog, and you don’t even trot. You run. Of course, to be perfectly honest, not everybody took advantage of the full five-hour running period, but I did. I was always the first and last kid on the street. Every year my Halloween adventure started with: “It’s not time yet you moron! I’m still doing the lunch dishes!” and ended with: “You woke me out of a dead sleep!”

Rule number three: Put the trick back in trick-or-treat. The candy companies of the fifties didn’t produce the pathetic miniature bars they now make in such abundance, so when someone gave you a candy bar back in my day (and I firmly believe this qualified them for sainthood), you got a full-sized candy bar. This didn’t happen very often, but when it did, you scored big.

So, here was the trick. I’d carry three masks. I didn’t normally don a mask because it would limit my vision and slow me down. But if someone gave me, say, a Hershey bar (most people gave out penny candy) I’d hit a couple of neighbors’ doors, put on a mask, and return to the place that was giving out the mother load. I would repeat this stunt with a different mask until they caught on to me. “Say, haven’t you been here before?” I once scored ten Almond Joy bars from the same house.

Rule number four: Beware of baked goods. I was raised at a time when a handful of homemakers still made their own treats—cupcakes frosted with an inch of gooey chocolate icing. They’d beam with pride when they opened their front door. “Here you go sonny,” they’d say as they held out a tray full of their baked concoction while eyeing my bag suspiciously. Now what was I supposed to do with a cupcake? Consuming it was out of the question. That violated the fifth rule of trick-or-treating: Never eat on the job.

One year I made the grievous error of letting a well-intended grandmother drop a cupcake into the center of my bag. I swear the chocolate-cover treat had its own gravitational field—sucking every decent piece of candy into its icing atmosphere until, by the end of the evening, it had grown to the size of a medicine ball. I learned to take cupcakes gingerly in my hand and then use them to mulch the neighbors’ flower beds.

Now for today’s broader (and less halloweeny) lesson.

Before writing it down for this column, I’d never shared this childhood story with my own children. As much fun as it is, I suppose all these years I’ve had a fear of exposing a certain quirkiness about me and my love for chocolate, or revealing that at one time, I was a bit greedy and weird. This hesitance to share a shadier side of my past raises an interesting issue. When you mostly share your accomplishments (as the majority of us are wont to do) and fail to share your embarrassing moments, weaknesses, and vulnerabilities, you’re less interesting and less human. All of this superficial perfection amounts to an individual who is less approachable and doesn’t connect well with others.

The same could be said for your relationships at work. I’m pretty confident in assuming that most everyone has a peculiar story like my Halloween ritual that they’d rather keep locked away than aired to friends and coworkers like dirty laundry. Instead, we delight each other with long and impressive lists of accomplishments, noble experiences, and stories that aren’t really told, but rather boasted to anyone in ear shot.

Ironically, sharing a list of accomplishments typically creates more distance than unity. However, sharing oddities, fears, and stories of your personal faux pas creates the very glue that binds people together. Of course, we typically don’t share such personal information at work. It’s just not done. Nevertheless, at a time when companies expect employees to work in more collaborative and “team-oriented” ways, how can we expect to be unified into anything that even appoximates a social unit when all we know about each other is what can be found on our resumes?

So, this Halloween season dare to be vulnerable. Consider donning a new costume this year, not one shielded by masks of sobriety, perfection, and accomplishments; rather, expose your coworkers to the more interesting you—the geek you, the childlike you, the oddball you. For instance, did you dunk for apples as a teenager until you choked and spit up on your date? Did you make your own costume for a neighborhood competition only to have critical parts of it fall off during the awards ceremony? Or, as related earlier, did you aggressively knock doors on Halloween night until someone finally shouted: “Hey kid, it’s time to haul your potato sack home!”

Knowing stuff like that binds families and teams together.

The following article was first published on August 31, 2005.

Dear Crucial Skills,

I suspect one of my direct reports (my assistant) has an issue with me that she is unwilling or unable to address. To my face she is pleasant and appears content. I have clearly expressed my desire for open communication and she has acknowledged that she feels comfortable coming to me with any concerns. However, in an exit interview, one of her coworkers told me that this employee “feels oppressed” by me. Another of her coworkers has referenced “communication problems” between us.

My gut tells me she is sharing her concerns with others, but not me, yet I have nothing tangible to reference with her. I don’t want to seem paranoid or have a conversation that is so vague it has no impact. I’d be more inclined to just let it go if it weren’t for the fact that I believe others are getting a negative perspective on me.

Thanks,
Wondering

Dear Wondering,
I’ve long believed the most useless employee idea is the one you never hear—and likewise, the most hurtful customer complaint is the one that’s never shared. If you’re not aware of the problem, it’s tough to solve it. Now, in your case, you’ve got some clues that there is a problem, yet you have been unable to get direct understanding from your assistant. Apparently, she’s gone silent with you on this issue.

I find it helpful to think of this as a safety problem; because your assistant doesn’t feel safe, she doesn’t want to share. It’s not content that keeps people from talking openly. It’s perceived lack of safety. With enough safety you can share almost anything with almost anyone. The way to solve this issue with your assistant is to make it safe enough for her to share how she views the situation. Here are a few ideas.

First of all, think about what it is you really want here. This is a relationship problem. The first conversation you need to hold is not about whatever topic she’s holding back, it’s about how you work together. You not only want to identify and solve a communication problem, you want to do it in a way that builds a safe, effective relationship going forward. You want a relationship that’s open, a relationship where you can both talk about what’s working and what’s not—and where you can work together on making things better. Keep these goals in mind as you move forward, and they will help you stay on track in creating safety.

In order to build safety into this conversation, begin by sharing your good intentions. You might explain your reason for having this conversation. For example, “I want to talk to you about our working relationship—how it’s going, and how it can be improved.”

I also think it would show respect and be a nice touch to ask your assistant’s permission to have this conversation–again adding to the safety. Ask by saying something like, “Would that be alright?” If she says yes, proceed. If she says no, ask why not.

Now you want to share the issue you’re concerned about–you want to get your meaning into the shared pool. Start with the facts you have collected: “In an exit interview, your coworker shared with me that you feel oppressed by me, and another coworker referenced communication problems between us.” Then you can tentatively tell your story: “I’m wondering if I’m doing something that makes it hard to work with me and that makes it hard to talk to me about it.” And finally, ask for her perspective: “What’s going on? Please help me understand.”

And then—really listen. Honestly invite her to share and sincerely show your interest in what she’s saying. You achieve this by staying calm and professional as she shares her concerns. Don’t be defensive—that would likely reinforce the story she’s already telling about why she can’t bring things up. Often, actively listening will create a strong sense of mutual purpose and respect, and people will feel safe enough to open up.

If your assistant still does not want to talk about it, exercise your best judgment as to when to stop the conversation. At some point, to continue pressing is to cross the line into disrespect. If you decide to disengage, leave her with an invitation: “I would like to better understand how you feel about our working relationship, and would like to hear any ideas you have about how I can be more effective. Would it be alright with you if we revisit this issue another time?”

Keep in mind that for some issues, you will have to work on mutual purpose and respect consistently over time before you can build enough safety for others to be willing to open up.

As an additional note, if you suspect that the problem is more widespread than a single direct report, you might consider a simple tool to gather feedback, such as an anonymous survey. Often, if people can give you feedback in writing anonymously, they will be honest and direct. Try a short paragraph describing the feedback you want, such as, “I would like to collect feedback on my leadership style. Will you help me? Please identify the things I am doing well that I should CONTINUE doing, the things I am not doing well that I should STOP doing, the things I am not doing that I should START doing, and the things I am doing but should MODIFY. Do not attach your name. All responses will be collected and compiled by [a third party, perhaps an administrative assistant].”

This becomes a quick and efficient way of ascertaining whether or not there is a widespread problem that needs your attention. Be sure to thank your team for their time and thoughts and share with them some of the things you’re going to do to improve. Ask them for their support in making these changes and make sure you do not try to identify individual comments or be punitive in any way. As you target the things you need to change and as they see you making improvements, you will be creating a safer social climate in your team—making it easier for people to be honest with you in the future.

I wish you all the best in your most crucial confrontations.

Ron

The following article was first published on August 2, 2006.

Dear Crucial Skills,

I have been noticing lately that nearly every conversation I have with my fifteen-year-old daughter turns crucial very quickly. Innocent suggestions, requests for help, questions about school—many, many topics are too close to the skin for my daughter. And despite my best efforts to “start with heart” and “make it safe,” I am finding it very difficult to keep things from escalating—for BOTH of us.

Right now, I am very concerned about her grades (which are slipping) and some of her new friends who are given a great deal more freedom than she is. Requiring basic information (reporting in, letting me know where she is and who she is with, and when to expect her home, etc.) are the latest “hot buttons.” I’m trying my best, but no matter how I say it I feel like we get nowhere.

Any suggestions?
Deteriorating Rapidly

Dear Deteriorating,
I come to your question materially qualified because I’ve struggled with four teenagers . . . and counting. So I’ll be a bit personal here as opposed to drawing from a broader database as we usually try to do in this column.

First, change your expectations. If your daughter seems like she’s warming up for a rocky teenage period, it doesn’t mean anything is wrong. I’m personally convinced that some of our kids need to become quite bothersome to accomplish some important emotional growth. Becoming disagreeable, for example, may help them become independent. It’s a worthy goal and some kids just seem to need to achieve it in a pretty messy way. Teenage years may also be nature’s way of helping parents support their children in leaving home. If they were adorable forever they might stay with us until age forty or so. Seriously, though, I experienced enormous relief when through my reading and reflection I came to understand that my teenagers were right on track with their rebellion and that I needed to stop thinking if I dealt with it better it would go away in a week or two. Be patient.

Change your conversation. With all that said, you are perfectly within your rights to expect some basic ground rules. Research shows that boundaries and expectations are a good thing—even if your teenager bridles against them. What’s important is to have some dialogue about those boundaries—and not at a time when you are trying to enforce them. Let her know you’d like to talk about some basic ground rules and accountability. Let her get prepared with her point of view. Come prepared with yours. But come also with a willingness to negotiate. Give up some less important things in the interest of demonstrating your respect for her growing autonomy. But argue patiently and logically for the things you think are vital.

Agree on consequences in advance. It’s been said that the difference between discipline and punishment is that discipline is explained in advance and punishment is inflicted out of anger. Your track record with your daughter suggests she might test your resolve about the commitment she makes, so include some discussion of reasonable consequences should she fail to comply. Help her understand that the consequences need to be substantial enough to encourage compliance but that you don’t want them to be arbitrarily harsh.

Clarify how you’ll decide. Listen to her suggestions in this conversation. But be sure to let her know with both the discussion of boundaries and the discussion of consequences that you will make the ultimate decision if the two of you can’t agree. Don’t violate her expectations by suggesting you’re both voting on these decisions. This is not a democracy, it is a family. And in a family the parents are the ultimate decision makers—hopefully with generous input from and dialogue with the children.

Now, I want to acknowledge that I’ve stepped beyond communication advice and given you a generous dose of my own parenting beliefs. Feel free to cull out what you want and discard the rest. I’ll just conclude by suggesting once more that you are not “deteriorating rapidly.” You may be right on schedule. And to the degree that you continue to approach both the broader crucial conversations I’ve described and the more tactical crucial confrontations you’re already holding as lovingly as possible, you’ll in all likelihood get to the other side of this period overwhelmed with admiration at the lovely and independent young woman your teenager has become.

Best wishes,
Joseph

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This article was first published on April 19, 2006.

Over the years I’ve written several pieces on the need for more frequent, creative, and sincere recognition. No matter the time, place, or location, if you survey employees about what sits in their craw, people routinely point out that they aren’t given enough recognition for their performance. As far as the average person is concerned, their bosses, friends, and family members just don’t value them as much as they should.

The first piece I ever wrote about the need for an increased dose of praise highlighted the importance of knowing what the other person values. After all, if you spot an exceptional performance and then reward it with something you value but others don’t—well, you miss the mark. Not only do you fail at a chance to give praise, but you can appear insensitive and uncaring. I’ve learned this valuable lesson the hard way. For instance, once I gave my wife a nice stereo for her birthday. I really wanted the stereo, she didn’t, and she called me on it. “So, this is your gift; where’s mine?” Uh-oh.

But the very first time I learned the lesson deserves special attention. I discovered the importance of knowing what the other person values the summer of 1963—on my very first date.

Most of us can recall our first date as if it were yesterday—some with fond memories, others with slightly tainted recollections, and still others with sheer horror. Mine fell into the horror category. It actually started out okay. I had a date with a nonrelative. This was a plus. We went to a party at a friend’s house. My date seemed amused with my nervous chatter. We even danced and talked—just like I knew what I was doing.

Then came the games. Some of the couples were starting to dance too close for the parents’ taste. A few even began to seek out dark places. And then, as if on cue, my friend’s father jumped in and shouted, “Let’s turn the lights on and play some good old-fashioned games!” I hardly knew the girl I was with, so the prospect of competing in a coeducational arena appealed to me. I liked to compete. I figured that my date would be impressed if I won an event or two. I would be. My friends would be. It only stood to reason that she would be. Guess again.

The first competition was a game of the “bobbing for apples” genre. Only instead of apples, we used marshmallows; and instead of floating in water, they hung by string from the ceiling. Each boy was asked to put his hands behind his back and then eat, unassisted, six marshmallows that had been spaced a few inches apart on two feet of string.

Now here was an event tailored to my unique skills. It involved eating sugar—and I had been in training since birth. When the whistle blew, I chomped into the marshmallows like a jackal on a fallen wildebeest. My competitors gingerly nibbled away. What a rout! I grazed straight up the string, swallowing all six marshmallows in about thirty seconds. The other guys hadn’t even finished one. They simply stood by, dabbing their cheeks with the corners of their napkins.

When I announced my victory, all eyes turned to me in shock. Nobody in the crowd could believe I had finished already. Then, within three ticks of the clock, looks turned from surprise to admiration to disgust. Not only had I eaten the marshmallows, I had swallowed the string as well. Hanging out of the corner of my mouth was six inches of unswallowed evidence.

As people looked on in revulsion, I was faced with a puzzling question. Do I swallow the rest of the string and run the risk of it getting tangled in my intestinal tract? Or do I pull back the two feet I had swallowed and chance whatever happens when you retrieve something from your stomach?

In retrospect, swallowing may have been the more prudent tactic. Or perhaps retrieving the string in the privacy of the bathroom would have worked. Yanking back the string in the midst of the crowd was a definite mistake. But what did I know? I was sixteen. To be truthful, in the heat of the moment I actually thought it might be “cool” to pull a string out of my stomach. Surely that would impress my date.

What I hadn’t counted on was the marshmallows. They came back with the string—slimy and dripping with the orange soda I had swallowed as a pre-competition pick-me-up.

As I awkwardly jerked the string out of my gullet, I retched on each marshmallow.

The overall effect was not good. I yanked on the string—choking and spitting. The crowd looked on in horror. Well, not everybody. The guys cheered raucously, counting each marshmallow as it emerged—as if each were a touchdown or an extra point. The girls, on the other hand, covered their eyes, backed off in horror, and raced to the bathroom.

I didn’t get a good-night kiss when the party came to an end that evening. After all, this was the early 1960s, a first date—and my companion had gone home with a girlfriend. All things considered, things could have gone better.

As I lay awake that night trying to figure out where I had gone wrong, it came to me in a flash of insight. The fact that I choked on the string was not the problem. Although gagging on the marshmallows probably detracted from my mystique, what really had gone wrong was my assumption. I had assumed my date cared about what I cared about. I actually believed that she would be impressed with my ability to gobble marshmallows and then retrieve them. The guys were impressed. My date, on the other hand, marched to the beat of a different drummer. She wasn’t interested in dating freako-marshmallow boy. She had been mortified by my performance.

The point is that I sought to give her something she didn’t really want. I looked into her heart and saw my own wants and desires—and I was wrong.

So, what’s the takeaway here besides “Don’t try to retrieve a slimy string from your stomach”? Before you offer up a heart-felt reward, learn what others value. Reward them with what they want, not with what you want. Learn the true meaning of the Golden Rule. Do unto others as they would have you do unto them, not as you would do unto yourself. And trust me, if you don’t, you’ll be taking that stereo back.

  Dear Crucial Skills,
I can’t believe I’m asking this question, because it seems antithetical to everything you talk about in your books, but is it ever possible to have a crucial conversation over the phone? So many of us are working in “virtual” companies, where much of the day-to-day work is done in conference calls and over a long distance, and face-to-face time is hard to arrange—sometimes for months in a row. It seems like when things don’t go well with these telephone relationships, it is really hard to figure out what to do!

If it is possible to have a crucial conversation over the phone, are there any tips for how to make it work without the critical facial expression/body language components?

Signed,
Hung Up

Dear Hung Up,
You’re right in asking the question. You do indeed need to think twice before handling a crucial conversation over the phone. Routine conversations are full of information—both verbal and nonverbal. High-stakes conversations are even more likely to contain both unspoken and spoken messages. In fact, when it comes to high-stakes discussions, sometimes you can gather as much from people’s tone, delivery, and body language as you can from their words. This ability to divine a full battery of information can be particularly important if the person you’re talking with is intimidated by your position or expertise. You may have to see them in action to catch their reluctance to disagree or their unwillingness to complete an assignment.

Unfortunately, as you’re suggesting, phones don’t give you the visual data that you so sorely need. So what’s a person to do?

First, talk face-to-face whenever possible. Don’t use the phone and never use e-mail to conduct a crucial conversation. Far too many people use the computer or phone to save them from getting up from their work station and having a tête-à-tête with a direct report, boss, or coworker. Either they don’t believe that it’s important to conduct high-stakes and emotional discussions in person or they choose convenience over effectiveness. Either way, according to a recent study we conducted, more than 87 percent of those surveyed admit that using high-tech means to resolve a workplace confrontation has not been effective in their experience. And 89 percent say e-mail, text messaging, and voice mail can get in the way of good workplace relationships.

But we’re still left with your question: What do you do when all you have is the phone?

First, be aware that you’re operating without one of your senses. Since you can’t see the other person, pay particular attention to what you can hear. Listen for pauses that indicate the other person isn’t feeling safe. Pay attention to tone, pacing, and vocal tension for signs that the person is feeling stressed. Listen for words that indicate hedging or whitewashing.

If it does seem as if the other person is nervous or isn’t speaking frankly, remember your safety skills. Apologize when necessary. Contrast to fix misunderstandings. Seek mutual purpose and maintain mutual respect. Ask, “Does that make sense or am I missing something here?” Invite differing views.

To ensure that you yourself are not too tense and thus confounding the climate, relax your grip on the phone. Sit back and take in what the other person is saying. Breathe deeply, place a smile on your face, and seek to understand the truth in what the other person has to offer. This helps you move from debate mode to conversation mode.

Second, go public with the problem. Explain that you’d rather hold the conversation face-to-face but you can’t, so you want to take special care to ensure that both parties are heard. Emphasize that you desire to work through the problem in a way that satisfies both of you.

Third, continually check for understanding. It can be easy to assume that the other person has comprehended your point of view when you can’t see his or her look of confusion and all you’re getting is silence. Ask if your explanation made sense. Own your responsibility by asking: “Did I explain that well or should I take another pass at it?”

Fourth, summarize every few minutes. It’s easy to forget some of the content when you’re listening carefully to both the content and the delivery. Stop and summarize key points along the way or they may get lost.

Finally, check and see how the phone conversation is working. You explained at the beginning that it wouldn’t be as easy to hold the crucial conversation over the phone, so stop at least once and ask if it’s going alright. If it’s not, check to see what isn’t working.

Once again, if your only way of talking to the other person is over the phone, then be on your best phone behavior. Otherwise, walk, bike, drive, or fly over to the other person’s work site and talk face-to-face. It’s always the best option.

Best of Luck,
Kerry

  Dear Crucial Skills,
I was wondering if you could share your insights on a perplexing issue: How can I devise a plan to creatively/effectively communicate with workers on shift (those who can’t attend regular face-to-face meetings with supervisors, all-hands meetings with plant managers, etc.)? Our managers/supervisors are finding it hard to have crucial conversations with shift personnel because of their odd schedules. As a result, these employees feel “disengaged” and not aligned with our company’s strategies. Can you help?

Signed,
Indirect Communication

Dear Indirect,

Thanks for the question. The problem you bring up is shared by thousands of people worldwide. It highlights the challenges often explored under the behavioral science category known as “propinquity”—that is, physical distance and frequency of interaction. It turns out proximity and interaction have a greater effect on likeability, collaboration, respect, and inclusion than virtually any other variable. Research on friendship patterns reveals that distance and the frequency of interaction account for a great deal (often almost all) of the variance. You like people you see all the time. People you don’t see, you don’t care for as much. In more common relationship terms, “Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.” The more likely outcome is “Out of sight, out of mind.”

As a consultant, I worked on this very issue long before we ever wrote our books. The finding was always the same. A lack of face-to-face time typically creates problems. People who work on different shifts in the same workspace (usually sharing the same equipment and production line) suffer twice. First, they don’t see each other. Second, they share the same space, so they’re constantly causing each other problems. One shift doesn’t clean up or does all the easy jobs, etc. Under these circumstances you have the unsavory combination of high interdependence with almost no direct interaction. It’s a near perfect formula for backbiting, stereotyping, and infighting. And as you pointed out, people who don’t work on the day shift typically feel less included and often act less engaged.

So, what’s a person to do?

Beware of e-mail, voice mail, and other electronic solutions. These modern technologies aimed at resolving propinquity problems can be both an aid and a challenge. E-mail may make it easier to share information—and that can be good—but it keeps people from ever talking face-to-face—and that’s generally bad. “We’ll just drop them a note,” people think to themselves. That way they don’t have to stay after work to hold an actual conversation. If you’re merely sharing information, it’s a good use of the medium. If you’re trying to replace an actual conversation, it’ll never work.

Of course, when people start to talk about problems via e-mail it can be a real disaster. You don’t have the normal give-and-take you would have in a tête-à-tête. You can’t read nonverbals. You can’t make quick adjustments. Problems end up going unresolved and relationships typically grow worse. Like it or not, you can’t hold a crucial conversation via e-mail.

The same is true when giving complicated or tough assignments. People resent being given additional assignments through an e-mail that implies they have plenty of free time when, in fact, their plate is full. People want to be able to discuss priorities, push back where it makes sense, and otherwise discuss what should happen. It’s hard to do this when you can’t read each other. Even a phone conversation doesn’t completely suffice.

The solution to a lack of face time, as you might imagine, lies in offering more actual human contact. Everything else falls woefully short. With shift work in manufacturing, many companies now schedule the two groups to overlap one afternoon every couple of weeks. They pay one team overtime to come in early or to stay late and then discuss common challenges and the solutions. This has proven enormously effective in reducing conflict.

When it comes to supervisors having to deal with people who are working different hours, there is no royal road to helping those who are on different shifts feel included—short of meeting with them fairly regularly, even if for just a few minutes. If you want to find a group of really disgruntled people, talk to employees whose boss works in a different town or isn’t on the same shift. This same boss writes these people’s performance reviews, and as you might imagine, employees almost always feel unfairly judged when they’re being evaluated merely on output measures by a person from afar. These folks don’t only feel excluded, they also typically feel mistreated.

Until leaders schedule time to meet and work with people on different shifts, don’t expect much to change. The presence or absence of the ability to rub shoulders and get to know and respect one another is such a powerful force that almost nothing can replace it. In your efforts to create a sense of commitment and inclusion you can give fancy speeches, write clever memos, even put together engaging videos; but nothing will ever replace meeting informally, chatting, problem-solving, and just having actual time together. So, meet informally and share your views of what can be. Jointly celebrate your successes and mourn your losses. It’s the only cure to the propinquity problem.

Best of Luck,
Kerry